“Yes, we love them, even if my family does not worship them as some do.  They are part of an Egyptian’s family, much more than a pet.  They are like sisters, brothers, or children.  This one is precious.  Is it really for me?”  Nefah held the kitten tenderly and rubbed her cheek against its orange fur.  Her olive skin was tanned by the sun and contrasted sharply with her linen tunic.

Connie suggested that they sit under a palm tree to get relief from the midday sun.   Nefah instead offered to take them to her home for some food.  There she would explain about all the terrible things that had happened.  Perhaps the travelers would help her family and the others.  Travis, K.T. and Connie held tightly to their backpacks and followed Nefah through the gates of the walled town.

Nefah hurriedly led them through narrow, dirt streets and past an open-air market where most of the “meat” was still alive.  Huge papyrus barrels held barley grain that women scooped out and poured into smaller vessels.  If some fell to the ground, it was scooped up with the same tool and put back into the barrel – dirt and all.  Sand, it seemed, was a main ingredient in bread.

The three travelers couldn’t keep up with all the sounds, sights and smells as they ran through the alleyways to Nefah’s home.  In the center of the town was a small water well with a rusty metal bowl that served as a bucket.  The well was surrounded by a low wall and was shaded by tall palms and several shorter bushes that K.T. did not recognize.  The plants were the only vegetation in the village.  K.T. could make out a narrow gully leading from the well’s pool through the town and out under the wall.  I wonder if that comes from the Nile, she thought.

When they reached Nefah’s house, she asked them to sit on the floor on brightly painted grass mats around a low clay table with designs of crocodiles, cranes, fish and frogs etched around the edges.

“Here are refreshments,” she said, offering them a platter of grapes, dates, figs and cone shaped loaves of bread.  K.T. noted that the foods were similar to those from home.

“I wonder if this is like when my family traveled toMexicolast summer?  We had to be careful not to eat anything washed by water.  Maybe we’d better use our water to wash the food first,” Connie whispered to K.T.  They both noticed too late to warn Travis, who had devoured grapes and a fig the moment the platter arrived.